


Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

by Chloryl



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: CYOA, Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Gen, Interactive, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chloryl/pseuds/Chloryl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>…and wall to wall. </p><p> In this harsh, merciless world the strong feed upon the weak. It’s a vicious cycle, with no beginning and no end. You’re not given a choice about being born to this world, but you do choose what you make of it. Like the rest of the last of the human race, you share the heavy burden of mankind’s fate on your shoulders.</p><p> You had to be prepared to give it your all in order to keep yourself and others alive.</p><p> Reader x Various (or none), depending on your choices in the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Starting Point

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin, nor do I own you.  
> This is an interactive choose-your-own-adventure story featuring a female!reader.

1: Your Starting Point

On that day, mankind received a grim reminder. It was year 845, the first in a hundred years that the Titans breached Wall Maria. Like countless other men, women, and children, civilians and soldiers, you grew up within the confines and safety of the walls your entire life. Humanity’s last stronghold – this is where your story begins.

There are trials and tribulations. You might not even make it out alive. You’ll be forced to watch your comrades fall all around you, sometimes on your account. You’ll have to make sacrifices and live with the consequences.

Death is, perhaps, almost inevitable. You could spend your last moments in the arms of your loved ones. Or die in the battlefield alone, an unsung hero, a nameless martyr sacrificed for the greater good. Your body may never be recovered, or perhaps damaged beyond recognition. There is no fate worse than being eaten alive by a Titan.

One choice could end your life.

Then again, it could be far worse. A choice of yours could potentially lead someone else to their death. As a soldier, you share the heavy burden of mankind’s fate on your shoulders, perhaps more importantly, the fate of your fellow officers. For some, death could even be a seen as a merciful alternative.

Should you choose the life of a civilian from the start or convinced yourself to desert somewhere along the way, no one will be there to stop you. But take heed, civilian life is not without its dangers. You would be worse off without formal training. With the constant danger the Titans pose to mankind, you have a high probability of being eaten.

Do you want to be eaten?

On the day the Titans laid siege to the outermost wall of human territory in 845, the District of Shiganshina was left in ruins. On that day, humanity was forced to abandon Wall Maria. On that day, your story begins to unfold.

_On that day, where were you?_

 

**I. Shiganshina, Wall Maria.**

Your starting point: Your parents had been close family friends of Dr. Jaeger before they fell victim to the mysterious plague had beset mankind several years ago. Though his skill had spared much of the population of the city, he hadn’t been able to save them. Growing up with Eren and Mikasa in the Jaegers’ household, you’re only ten years old when you watched your hometown crumble to pieces.

 

**II. Titan territory, the outside world.**

Your starting point: You’re a fresh recruit of the Scouting Legion, having been a member of the Garrison for a number of years. In your late teens to early twenties, you are a seasoned soldier who desires very little but to devote your life to mankind’s cause. You’d protect the remnants of humanity even at the cost of your life, and you’re currently on a reconnaissance expedition near the south end of Wall Maria. You’ll find your journey back to human civilization will coincide with the day of the Colossal Titan’s attack – if you make it back alive, that is.

 

**III. Stohess, Wall Sina.**

Your starting point: As a daughter who hails from wealthy nobility, you reside within the safe innermost walls of Sina. Despite your father’s initial disapproval, you have been studying medicine at an expensive university. Far from the reaches of the Titans, you won’t learn of the attack until it is much too late.

 

**IV. Trost, Wall Rose.**

Your starting point: Descended from one of the last of the oriental race, you had been abducted as a child and were to be sold to a collector in the thriving underground markets. Managing to escape your captors before you could be auctioned off, you found yourself orphaned and left to fend for yourself on the streets for years. Titans were the least of your worries, but that could all change in a twist of fate.

_Where? Where are you?_


	2. Shiganshina District

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This option starts out pretty boring, just a replay of episode 1. ~~There's even exact dialogue, you lazy author!~~
> 
> Things'll get interesting starting next chapter! 
> 
> I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin.

The soap has a calming scent, like a subtle blend of fruit and freshly-picked flowers, lulling you into a false sense of security. Though the faucet water runs cold, it’s comfortably warm inside the small house, heated by the fresh firewood Eren had gathered earlier burning bright in the brazier. You scrub diligently at the plates and pans, trying to remove every trace of food stains with bubbles and water. Beside you, Mrs. Jaeger mops up the soapy mess that you’ve been contributing to the countertop, an indulgent smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“D’you eat uhready?” Eren calls over from his perch by the tableside, with a mouthful of food muffling what otherwise will have been a coherent question.

“Yes she did,” his mother answers for you. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

It’s so warm and safe inside, surrounded by family. Your old life, you’ve long forgotten. At the moment, you think nothing can take this feeling away from you. Not even –

“Eren wants to join the Scouting Legion.” Mikasa’s quiet voice carries through the still air and douses the room in icy silence. You drop the half-cleaned dish that you are supposed to be washing into the sink where it is met with a loud splash. It shatters. A feeling of icy terror grips your heart.

“Mikasa, you traitor!” Eren cries indignantly. You hear a loud clang as he drops his plate to the table. You suspect he has dropped his fork as well.

But Mrs. Jaeger has already left your side, sending the sopping rag on the counter flying in her haste. You tilt your head slightly, following her movements with your eyes. You watch as she places her hands firmly on her son’s shoulders and meets his defiant gaze, her eyes full of undisguised fear.

“Eren, what are you thinking? Do you know how many people die outside those walls?”

“I do!”

“You clearly don’t!” she retorts, her expression uncharacteristically fierce. She’s always gentle, your foster mother, one who rarely raises her voice. You see that Mikasa has averted her eyes. You understand where she is coming from, but the question is, will you have done the same?

“Eren,” Dr. Jaeger interrupts, cutting across both his son and wife. “Why do you want to go outside?” 

“I don’t want to die inside these walls without knowing what’s out there,” he says, sounding almost angry at himself. “And if no one takes their jobs,” he adds defiantly, “then those who lost their lives will have died in vain!”

“I see.”

You bend down to retrieve the rag Eren’s mother has dropped and wring the cloth mechanically, letting the icy water trickle down your fingers.

“Mrs. Jaeger,” you say timidly, breaking the short silence, “I broke the plate by accident.”

As she comes over by the sink to fuss over you, her husband stands up.

“My ship is here. I must get going.”

“Just throw it away, [Name],” Mrs. Jaeger says quickly, sounding flustered. She leaves your side again, rushing over to the door as Eren’s father dons his hat. “Wait, dear! Help me convince Eren!”

As Dr. Jaeger reassures his wife of the nature of human curiosity, he turns to his son. “Eren. After I’ve returned, I’ll show you the basement I’ve been keeping you away from.” He reaches into his coat, pulling out a large, gold key from its depths. Eren’s previously sour expression melts off his face in an instant. He looks far happier than you have seen him in a long time.

It’s after his father is out of earshot that Eren’s mother returns to scolding her son. “I won’t allow it. You’re not joining something as stupid as the Scouting Legion.”

“Stupid?” Eren repeats incredulously. “People who are content living like livestock are stupid!” He throws his mother another angry glare before running off through a narrow alley, disappearing around a corner before she can stop him. She lets out a sigh and turns to Mikasa, who has stepped quietly off the porch.

“Mikasa, he’s truly a reckless boy. When trouble comes, be sure to help each other out,” Mrs. Jaeger says pleadingly. 

She nods, then goes after Eren.

_Get going. Follow Mikasa. Go to **Chapter 6.**_

_Go back into the house. It’s cold out. Go to **Chapter 7.**_


	3. The Outside World

Your father used to tell you stories that mankind had once existed beyond the boundaries of the walls. Tall tales. Foolish hope. He’s had big dreams for his only daughter and was almost disappointed when you joined the Garrison upon graduation. You regret not having invested into these legends until after he was long gone.

“Won’t you be proud if you could see me now, Dad,” you murmur, your grip tightening on the handles of your twin blades. After years of patrol and repair for the Walls, you realize that he’s been right all along. If you want to do some good for humanity, preparation for a possible attack wouldn’t be enough. You want to be on the front lines, like he’d been.

“Don’t,” comes Moses’ ragged voice, cutting into your reverie. His face is gaunt, rain-streaked and his dull eyes are filled with pain and exhaustion. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

You shift your weight in the uncomfortable saddle, adjusting your position so that you can face him without falling off your mount. “Why not? I’d lay down my life for mankind. I’m proud to say that I’ve joined the Scouting Legion.”

“You’ve never seen it happen.”

“Seen what happen?”

He closes his eyes briefly, angling his head towards the sky. Letting the rain fall into his face, you suspect, to wash away any trace of tears. There’s no pride in breaking down right before a mission over something so trivial. There must be something else on his mind, something pressing. “You’ve never seen the Titans eat people,” he says finally, his voice breaking slightly at the end. “You’ve never seen it for yourself.”

“I can imagine,” you say darkly, but Moses shakes his head, spraying your face with rainwater.

“You’ve never seen it happen,” he repeats flatly, turning his attention back to scouting ahead as the horses continue on. It’s a clear indication that he has no desire to continue the conversation. You’ve heard he lost his father to a deviant-class, having watched him be devoured by a Titan on one of his early expeditions. It’s no wonder he feels so strongly about the subject. 

You’ll end up seeing it happening soon enough, you think bitterly. Most don’t survive their first expedition outside of the walls. If by some chance this isn’t your last, you’re bound to have to watch some of your comrades die one way or another. The thought makes you sick.

“Target approaching!”

That’s Commander Erwin’s voice, from up ahead, a little to the left. You squint through the heavy rain, both to sight the commander and the incoming Titan, to no avail. You can barely see, and the overgrown forest does little to help increase your field of vision.

“We’ll distract the target! All attack teams, prepare to move out!”

That’s the signal. You nod to Moses and fire your grappling hook blindly in the vague direction of the sky, drawing your blades from their respective sheaths in one swift motion. You let yourself be reeled upwards by the iron wire, secretly thankful that the hook has indeed caught onto the bark of one of the trees. There is no telling how disastrous it’d be if it hadn’t properly attached, for yourself and the safety of the entire recon team.

As it was, due to your poor aim, one of the hooks unlatches before you’ve halfway scaled the tree, sending you and your gear veering way off to the right of your designated target. Out of control. Rapidly accelerating.

“[Name]!” Moses yells, looking over his shoulder. Using his momentum, he swerves in midair and collides into you with his side, effectively and painfully breaking your fall.

“Ouch…” you groan, as he sweeps you up and to safety. Your left hipbone is probably bruised, if not fractured altogether. You’re still in shock, unable to register the pain just yet.

“Still alive?” Moses asks grimly, tossing your body over his shoulder then taking off again into the air. “You’ll be the death of all of us, I swear.”

You give a noncommittal shrug that you know he can’t see. Your voice is slightly breathless as you reply, “Better to die like that than to be eaten by a Titan.”

“Hear, hear,” he says sarcastically, swinging you upright and sets you down on a branch. He gives you a forceful pat on the back that knocks the wind out of your lungs. “Hey, you okay?” he asks anxiously.

“Can’t…breathe…” you wheeze, doubling over.

Moses grins. “That’s the spirit. C’mon, they’re going to kill that Titan before we even make our first move. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

Nodding, you follow his lead as he swings himself off the branch and into the fray. The other attack teams have already engaged in battle, their blades flashing wickedly in the dull light. A ten-metre class ambles along, seemingly oblivious to the soldiers closing in on either side. It doesn’t seem particularly interested in the humans dangling by face, continuing on its way at its own steady pace. A deviant type.

Moses curses under his breath. “It’s not paying attention to Henrik’s team. We won’t be able to get close enough to the nape of its neck.”

“No problem,” you say shakily, clutching your blades so tightly your knuckles turn white. “I’ll provide an opening. I-I’ll make sure it pays attention to me.”

“How?”

You smile without humour. “I’m going to gouge out its eyes.” Without waiting for his disapproval, you aim your grappling hooks directly at the Titan’s forehead, a spot that is barely within range of your equipment. 

“What the hell are you doing, girl?!” one of the soldiers roar as you shoot past him, propelled by a strong burst of gas. “Get back into formation!”

“I’ll distract it!” you yell back, landing squarely on the bridge of the nose. “You guys move in!” You brandish and plunge your blades deep into the Titan’s eyes, tearing its cornea and ultimately causing severe damage. It howls in pain and fury as blood sprays from its eyes, drenching you in crimson. At once, you realize your mistake. It lets out another guttural roar, its disproportionate hands coming rapidly towards its face to swat you out of the way. Abandoning your precious blades in favour of your life, you leave them lodged in the Titan’s eyes.

You barely make it. The soles of your boots skim the scalding skin of the Titan’s thumb. You can feel the heat burn the bottom of your feet, even though they are protected by leather. It almost catches you; you escape death by a hair’s breadth. The thought makes you almost giddy as you swing around to rendezvous with your comrades. By then, the Titan blood has already begun to dissolve, and you soon find your cloak clean again.

They’re all fine. You see that Henrik’s team has drawn close to the nape of the deviant-type’s neck. Even though it’s flailing wildly, movements erratic, one soldier manages to make a deep cut in its flesh. Not enough. A second takes over without missing a beat, slashing her twin blades across the Titan’s thick skin. Their teamwork is flawless; they don’t even need to communicate. This is the Scouting Legion. The elite.

“Where’s Moses?” you call over to Henrik, glancing around the clearing in mild concern. He points down, dropping his gaze. You scour the battlefield, your stomach twisting unpleasantly. There. He’s on the ground. Sprawled across the grass, his maneuver gear lying scattered around his motionless figure. He’s bloodied, battered, and his leg is twisted at an awkward angle. No. It can’t be.

You prepare to launch yourself after him when Henrik says, “Don’t bother. He’s dead.”

No.

“Look around you,” he continues, his voice bleak. “He’s not the only one.”

That’s when you fully take in your surroundings. There. Pere’s unit is missing two members. Ivan’s is missing three. There are corpses strewn all over the battlefield. Most are so mutilated you can’t tell them apart. But you know who they are. You know most of their names. By the process of elimination, you know exactly which of your comrades are lying there, no longer alive.

But look there. A flicker of movement in your peripheral vision. Moses raises his head feebly. There’s a deep gash on the side of his head, and he looks terribly beaten. But alive.

“Retreat!” Commander Erwin’s voice rings through the clearing, powerful, demanding. Already, the Titan has given up trying to dislodge your blades. Its titanic instincts are kicking in, as it bends down to scoop up a handful of fallen soldiers. It’s only a matter of time before it gets to Moses. And he’s still alive.

Your forefinger touches the trigger of your hilt, hesitating slightly. Sudden searing pain shoots down your left leg and you stumble. 

“And that’s an order, [Last Name]!” Henrik barks, before turning tail and following the rest of the soldiers as they flee the bloodstained battleground. It’s been, what, ten minutes? And they’re already retreating. You glance at the Titan and your stomach sinks. It’s picked up Moses’ prone body, its mouth widening impossibly. Its teeth are stained in blood, torn flesh and bits of skin caught in the gaps. They’re what remain of your friends.

_You’ve never seen it happen._

…And you don’t want to see it happen. Not now, not _ever_.

“[Last Name]!” It’s Ivan this time, but his voice sounds so far away.

Everything is surreal, dreamlike.

He’s still alive. 

_You’ve got to save him. No matter the cost. Go to **Chapter 8.**_

_Leave him. You must follow the Commander’s orders. Go to **Chapter 9.**_


	4. Stohess District

Comfrey. Ginger. Fennel. Rosemary. Calendula. Your fingers tingle as they lightly brush the medicinal herbs Dr. Reid has requested his students gather from his personal garden as an assignment of sorts. You eye the wicker basket dubiously, your mouth drawing into a frown. These have been hand-planted and painstakingly cultivated, cared for by some of your professor’s best horticulturalists. If he is training you to identify all kinds of herbs in their natural environment, this won’t do. They’re practically growing in perfect little rows.

But you know it will be next to impossible to obtain wild specimens. Dr. Reid has already been hard-pressed wrestling for this precious square metre of land from the government officials. Land is expensive. Land can grow food. Funding for schools in the districts of Sina has already been cut multiple times, rendering the coordinators short of money. The Royal Lorben would have closed down years ago if your father did not support the university with generous yearly donations. The herb garden is an expensive luxury, and you’re told to be grateful and shut your mouth.

Alas, the only place where medicinal herbs grow freely is outside of the walls. Even then, it’s just a rumour. The Scouting Legion can hardly be bothered about risking their lives to retrieve information on the territory’s vegetation. They don’t take bribery and fraternization as openly as the Military Police.

They say that there are two more walls outside of the wealthier districts within the inner wall. Having never left Sina’s protection, you have never seen them for yourself. Your family’s estate is a good 300 kilometres away from Titan territory, safer than any save for the nation’s royalty and the members of the Police responsible for defending the King. The closest you’ve ever gotten to Titan territory is the town of Stohess, the site of your current studies. Even here, it will still take you at least three days on horseback to reach the edge of Wall Maria.

This revelation you relate to your fellow classmate Liese, who does not approve.

“You’re crazy,” she tells you serenely, her eyes darting to the nearest group of people who are quietly conversing beside the chain-link fence several metres away. They are veterinary students, all of them, planning to pursue a career in the prestigious farming industry or a post in the Scouting Legion. Judging by their stiff clothing choice and the stately way they hold themselves, they are the aristocracy. The military will have no hope of convincing their families to let them join up, even if that is what they desire out of life.

“It’s reasonable,” you protest, tearing your gaze away from the chattering group. Leise’s eyes harden slightly as she sweeps her bangs to the side of her face. You gesture to the pristine garden with its miniature fruit and perfect leaves in frustration. “If we’re going to use our medicinal knowledge for the benefit of mankind, picking Dr. Reid’s flowers isn’t going to cut it.”

Her fingers freeze in the middle of brushing a stray hair out of her face. Her eyes are telling you to stop talking at once. But you aren’t done, and her behaviour is only making you angrier. This is the kind of treatment you receive at home, the kind of attitude your prim and proper siblings have learned from your parents and implement on you. It’s the kind of treatment you hate.

“What if another influx of plague sweeps through the outer walls?” you continue, raising your voice. “What if the Titans break through the walls of Maria and Rose, and penetrate Sina? A square metre of land won’t grow enough herbs to treat half the members of my family, let alone –”

“Yo, [Last Name]. Keep talking like that and you’ll land a job at the military.”

The veterinary students have somehow covered the distance between the fence and Dr. Reid’s garden while you were distracted and are now within hearing range. As they guffaw at the speaker’s words, Liese covers her face with her hands in shame.

“Scum like you don’t even deserve to be part of this school,” he continues, stepping into the garden and taking care to tread on some of Dr. Reid’s prized aloe vera plants. His eyes glint unpleasantly as he surveys your shocked expression at his blatant disrespect for your professor’s property.

Liese, brave and beautiful Liese suddenly peels her fingers away from her face and gets shakily to her feet. “That’s no way to talk to Dr. [Last Name]’s daughter, Christoph,” she says calmly, staring him down. “Are you forgetting how much he’s done for the school?”

“No,” he mutters uncomfortably, averting his gaze. “Course not. But little miss [Name] is a spoiled brat with a respected family name who doesn’t deserve to have been accepted into this prestigious university. It’s only her connections that –”

“Shut up.”

His friends turn to stare at you, all sharing identical expressions of disbelief. The look in Christoph’s eye has turned positively nasty, but you can sense a subtle, underlying tone of fear. He has little respect for you and your father, but he knows exactly how much power the man holds in this world. Knowing that you always hold your tongue and never fight back, he vents his frustrations out on you. He hasn’t counted on retaliation this time around, and you can tell that he’s regretting this lack of foresight. An outburst like this can land him a spot in jail of you put your mind to it. But you can see it in his eyes that he isn’t done.

“What was that?”

“I said, shut up,” you growl. It’s one thing to insult you, your family, or even your hopes and dreams, but quite another when it involves how you had gotten into the Royal Lorben. Contrary to popular belief, the daughter of Dr. [Last Name] had to scrounge up her savings alone to afford the entrance exams. Your father has never wanted you to go to university, and refused to support your education. You’re far from the spoiled kid that takes advantage of her family name.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” Christoph jeers, having quite recovered from his initial surprise. “So tell me. Was it bribery or blackmail that your dad used to get Reid to vouch for you?”

“Why you little –”

Liese grabs your arms, pinning them to your sides before you can do anything rash. You know you will regret it if you attack him out of anger, but at the moment, you can’t care less. You struggle in her vicelike hold, seething.

“He’s trying to get you worked up, can’t you tell?” she hisses in your ear. “Don’t you dare ruin your reputation. What would your father say?”

“He won’t care,” you laugh harshly as she pulls you away and out of earshot of the veterinary students. “As long as he marries me off well, he doesn’t care.”

Liese glowers at you, then lets go of your arms. “That’s no way to talk to _me_ ,” she says brusquely. “I always stand up for you, don’t I? Appreciate your friend for once.”

She leaves you standing there, alone, a half-filled basket of dried herbs sitting on the ground beside you.

-:-

 

“You’re home, honey!” Your mother’s voice is delighted, but you can detect the disapproval she hides underneath her warm tone. “How has school been?”

“Good,” you mutter, throwing your bookbag aside and proceeding to unbutton your coat. You’re back in Utopia District, the place you’ve tried to run away from all your life. Your father says he wants you to return for the weekend, but did not offer an explanation in the letter he sent. You’re waiting for him to come home.

Your siblings aren’t home. You’re glad, because your presence causes nothing but tension these days. It has been like this for years.

Your mother prattles on about politics, food shortages, and royal gossip, but you pay her no mind. Instead, you rummage through your bag. You know no one in your family cares about what you do, but it doesn’t stop you from bringing them poultices you’ve invented and tonics you’ve brewed at school. Who cares if Mom throws them out?

“Mom, I have something for you,” you say, interrupting her rant about a scandal back in 832. “It’s…for the stomach flu, lest Sis gets it really badly again.”

Your mother stops in the middle her sentence and stares at the vial in absolute disgust. “Take that away. How many times do I have to tell you? Stop bringing that stuff home.”

“But it’s herbal medi –”

“No. Out if my sight. Now.”

You scramble to your feet and hurry out of the room, and the last thing you see is your mother, clutching at her temple, a look of revulsion twisting her features.

You seek refuge in your old bedroom, but to your dismay, it’s been refurbished. All your belongings are gone, as is the bed you used to sleep on as a child. Is this your room anymore?

The doorbell sounds, and moments later, the front door opens. Your father is home. You give him a few minutes to greet your mother before descending the stairs, following the quiet hum of conversation leading you to the kitchen. But as you prepare to open the door, your father’s voice makes you freeze.

“…calling her home because I want her to quit medical school for good.”

Inches from the doorknob, you quickly withdraw your hand as if burned. You don’t understand. He has said he was beyond caring. He has told you that it’s your life, and you can do what you want. Why? Why all of a sudden?

_Tiptoe back to your room and pretend you heard nothing. Go to **Chapter 10.**_

_Eavesdrop on your parents’ conversation. Go to **Chapter 11.**_


	5. Trost District

“Get away from me, you damn brat!” 

You retreat to the far edge of the brick wall, your head bowed. The gentleman makes a show of dusting off his trousers and strides away, sniffing, “Tramps these days, no respect, no manners, I’ve had enough of this nonsense…”

You hug the fraying cloak closer to your small, malnourished frame, watching him disappear down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust as he goes. It’s already late afternoon, and you have yet to find someone generous enough to spare a scrap of food, a nearly-empty water skin, a handful of precious coins. Your throat is parched and you haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday. 

You always hear talk that the food shortages are getting worse. Barely a week ago, you’ve still been able to get by. Recently, however, no one pays heed to the homeless and the poor, not even to the street children. Now, the risk of starving to death is a very real possibility. Even the wealthy can’t seem to spare you a pitying glance.

But you have to keep trying. You’ve survived this far, haven’t you? You’re too proud to let yourself be killed like this, slowly, from the inside out. No, you aren’t going to die like this. You’ll rather die.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say hoarsely, reaching out a trembling, bony hand to grasp the hem of a man’s trench coat. He tries to shake you off, peering over his shoulder to inspect the filthy street urchin that has dared soil his clothes.

“What are you doing, kid?” he asks, twisting around to get a good look at your face. He doesn’t look cruel, you note in relief. 

“Please, sir, do you have some food to spare?” You gaze at him imploringly, letting go of his coat and clasping your hands together in earnest.

Instead of pushing you away, he turns to face you fully and bends down so that his face is level to your own. To your dismay, he’s giving you a sad, apologetic smile. “Do you know about the food shortages, child?”

“I…yes, but –”

“I’m sorry, but my own children and wife come first,” he says softly, gesturing to a young woman with a swollen belly, a baby in her arms and a young girl tugging on her skirts. “Surely you can understand the responsibilities of a father? These shortages have hit us all hard, and I can barely provide us with enough food on the table working seven days a week.”

You nod, blinking hard. You have had to face disappointment hundreds of times before, but none so crushing as this. This man clearly has a kind heart. His garments say that he is of the upper class. If even a man like this can’t give a poor street child something to eat, what does that say about the rest of society?

“Thank you for your time,” you say dully, flattening yourself against the ground in despair. So this is it. Your last stand against all odds, and you’ve lost. 

And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of a fully-loaded cart, its wheels creaking under the weight of its cargo, rolling against the cobblestone road. The procession of cart and handlers makes its way slowly down the street. As it passes by, you see that the back is loaded with heaps of bread.

_Bread._

One hand reaches out before you can stop yourself. They’re so far away. And you see the royal insignia stamped on the clothes of the cart driver. He won’t spare you a single crumb, you’re sure of it. And yet…

It never hurts to try. It will hurt if you don’t.

You can feel the ache in your stomach, acid eating its way through the tender walls of muscle. That’s what _he_ told you will happen, at least. _He_ found a sort of perverse, twisted pleasure in seeing people in pain and discomfort. You stare after the cart, and as the dust clears, you can’t see it anymore. It’s gone, and it takes your half-fearful hopes along with it.

But what is that lying in the middle of the road, lightly coated in a layer of fresh dust? A rock? A potato? A _loaf of bread_?

You scramble to your feet, hunger making you both light-headed and desperate, fills you with newfound strength yet your limbs are weak. It _is_ bread, you can see it clearly now. The passers-by are ignoring it – it’s much too filthy to be considered food fit for humans, and even hungry humans at that. But what do you care? You’ve been living off meals even a raccoon would turn its nose from. You won’t be passing up this opportunity.

And then a hand grasps your shoulder and pulls you back before you can take a step. You turn in hopeful anticipation, half-expecting it to be that man in the trench coat, the man with the family to feed finally feeling sympathetic for the hungry girl who’s asked him for food. He’s decided to help you after all. But no…it’s a scruffy teenage boy with pale, blonde hair. You don’t recognize him. He doesn’t have the hollow look of one who’s lived on the streets, but his clothes are threadbare, his eyes sunken. You’ll hazard a guess that he’s experienced a life of poverty.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, your voice cracked and desperate. You’ve come so far to dig up this one scrap of food, and you manage to find competition. One look at his bulky build and athletic frame, and you knew you don’t stand a chance against this guy. 

“Sheesh, calm down,” he says, but he releases his hold on your shoulder, much to your surprise. You put a good, several metres of distance between the two of you, your back to the bread to stall him at least a few more seconds and fold your arms over your chest.

“What is your problem?” you seethe, your eyes flashing dangerously. You take a step back to move into the main street, but the boy holds out one hand to stop you.

“Wait.”

Your glare intensifies. “I found it first. You’ll…have to fight me for it!”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t want the bread. But don’t go out there and get it either.”

“What? Because it’s covered in dirt?” You give him a humourless smile. “I’ve had worse.”

He shakes his head again. “No. It’s because they’re scouring the area for refugees from Maria. They won’t stop to ask questions. They’ll think you’re one of ‘em, and haul you out of Rose and conscript you into the civilian army. You’ve never had military training. You’ll die out there.”

“Pfft, and what if you’re making this up?”

“I’m not.” He gazes at you earnestly. His eyes are hazel, almost gold. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“But I don’t even know you,” you protest in a small voice. He’s a stranger, yet he’s asking for your trust? That’s something you rarely place in other people. There’s no one in the world you can trust but yourself.

But the boy’s gaze is sincere. He doesn’t seem to want the bread for himself at all. What can he hope to gain out of lying to you?

“You look awfully hungry,” he comments. Ignoring your scowl, he reaches into the pockets of his trousers and comes up with a suspicious-looking, small, black lump. He holds it out for you to see, looking slightly embarrassed. “This is, erhm…food.”

You stare at it, not sure what to think. He continues, “It’s a sesame bun, well, part of a sesame bun.”

“F-for me? I don’t understand –”

“I figured you need it more than I do.” He doesn’t try to make you take it. He just holds it out patiently for you, letting you take your time to make up your mind.

_Well, he is offering…and you are starving. He seems like a nice person, maybe you can get to know him. Go to **Chapter 11.**_

_Black bread? Conscripting for the army? You don’t trust him, and you go back for the bread the cart dropped before he can stop you. Go to **Chapter 12.**_


	6. Livestock

Mikasa has already reached the end of the road by the time Mrs. Jaeger lets go of you, asking you to please be safe and keep out of trouble. She’s scaling the fence now, not waiting for you to catch up. You doubt she knows that you are following her. As you slow your pace, you catch her disappearing from view.

“Wait!” you cry out, coming to a full stop. Too short to see over the edge of the high fence, you instead peer through the cracks between the wooden boards. “Mikasa?”

There’s a scuffling noise, and she pokes her head back out moments later. Only her eyes are visible beneath her dark bangs as she surveys you coolly. “What?”

“Please wait for me,” you say, a note of a plea in your voice. You don’t want to get left behind.

Mikasa hesitates. Then she’s gone again. “Make it quick,” you hear her say, before falling silent completely. You exhale in relief, proceeding to scramble up over the fence to join her on the other side.

She doesn’t turn back to look at you once as you almost have to jog to keep up with her brisk pace. She’s worried about Eren, but there also seems to be something else on her mind.

“Hey, Mikasa…” you murmur, “Is there something –”

“No,” she says curtly. She turns the corner a few seconds before you do, and her dark eyes widen. Then she breaks into a run, disappearing from your sight again. By the time you catch up, you find her standing over two badly beaten boys, her arms folded over her chest.

“Are you okay, Eren?” She sounds concerned and unimpressed, but there’s a trace of relief in her voice. She’s been thinking that something worse has happened. “Armin?”

 _Are they?_ you wonder, taking in their defeated expressions, the hollow, sunken look in their eyes that seems much more prominent than usual. Armin struggles to his feet, wincing slightly.

“W-we’re fine,” he answers, not meeting Mikasa’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

He has been at it again, Armin, no matter how many times they’ve put him down he’s clung to his beliefs with feverish intensity. You can see it in his eyes that he’s proud to speak out, for his own sake and maybe for Eren’s too. No doubts, no regrets, and any pain is hidden well.

Mikasa’s not exactly the sympathetic type. As soon as they can stand, she turns back from where you two came from and says, “I don’t like this place. It’s too narrow and cramped. Let’s get out of here.”

The three of them are the same. They share the same thoughts, the same deep-rooted desire to get out and go to the world beyond the walls. You can hear it in Eren’s voice, see it in Armin’s eyes, feel the double meaning radiating from Mikasa’s simple words. She’s not one to let her feelings known, but you can sense it strongly from her, the yearning to be free.

_“Yes, let’s get out of here.”_

If only it is so easy.

Some aimless meandering leads Mikasa to the edge of the stream, Armin limping slightly, and Eren pretending that the bruises and scrapes don’t hurt at all. Mikasa pays this no heed.

“So what happened?” She’s the first to speak, and she doesn’t sound too happy. She’s looking at Eren, who gives a huff of displeasure.

“They were beating Armin up!” he protests, withering under her stern gaze. “What could I have done?”

“You could have waited for me.”

He’s thinking up a retort as you turn your attention to Armin, who until then has been quietly nursing his injuries. He hasn’t said a word since apologizing to Eren. He seems shaken, and you’re not sure if he’s okay.

“Hey,” you say softly, “What did happen to you?”

“I was telling some of the local kids that mankind needed to go outside the walls someday,” he murmurs, drawing up his knees and wrapping his arms around himself. “But they called me a heretic and beat me up. Eren tried to help…so they beat him up too.”

Eren looks outraged. “We just want to go outside! Why does everyone hate us?”

“It’s been peaceful living like this for the past hundred years,” Armin points out, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Titans might be let inside if we leave the walls, so the King’s government banned people from showing interest in the outside world.”

“We’re risking our own lives. No one has the right to stop us.”

He doesn’t acknowledge it, you realize as you glance curiously into his wide, blue eyes, that he’s braver than some – braver than most. You hear Mikasa quietly rebuke Eren, and his protests are drowned by Armin’s next words.

“Don’t you feel the same way, [Name]?”

You’re not as sure as you sound as you reply, “Of course…we shouldn’t be cooped up like this. It’s wrong.”

Eren’s nodding vigorously, latching onto your every word. He seems to have given up on convincing Mikasa, and you know it’s because she believes it too. “Trapped within these walls – we’re living like livestock! And I can’t…I can’t accept that.”

“People are crazy for believing that these walls will protect us forever,” comes Armin’s voice, disturbingly calm. He’s not looking at any of you, resting his chin on his knees as he continues, “Even though they’ve been intact for the past hundred years, there’s nothing that can guarantee they won’t be broken down today…”

In the ominous silence that follows, the wind suddenly ceases. It’s warm, you realize. The day is _warm_. Warm and humid, and it’s getting hard to breathe…

And then you’re flying. Wrenched off your feet and flying, flying… _falling_ helplessly through the air, _dying_ aren’t you, you don’t…you can’t, you’re not even sure what’s happening it’s all so fast you –

 _Thud_. “O-ow.”

You lie there, waiting for the world to stop spinning. You’re not really hurt, more caught off guard even though there’s nothing to going up except for coming back down. The wind picks up again.

And is it just your imagination…?

The walls themselves are shaking.

“W-what was that?! Hey Armin!”

He’s taken off at a run, and Eren goes after him at once. You and Mikasa exchange glances for a fleeting moment before pursuing the two of them back into the heart of the town.

They’ve stopped in the midst of a small crowd that must’ve gathered there moments ago. Armin’s standing very, very still. Eren doesn’t look like he’s breathing. Their backs are to you. They’re facing towards the sky. You look up, too, and what are they looking at? There’s nothing there. Nothing, well…

Your blood turns to ice.

There, atop the wall. It’s something big. It looks like flesh. It looks like a human hand. But it’s not anything remotely _human_. A hand…stripped of skin, it’s raw muscle and tissue in the shape of a hand. And are those – it’s so far away that you can’t really tell – _cracks_ in Wall Maria? It can’t be…it can’t be…

But it is.

You watch in mute horror as a head, raw and flesh and steam and tendon and rows of teeth and those ghastly _eyes_ emerges from behind the walls. No…that thing…can’t be human…

“Titans!”

That cry is echoed by more than just everyone in the vicinity. You can hear it reverberating in your bones. May it be a whisper, a scream, an unspoken thought, it’s times like these when their hearts are one. All of Shiganshina stand as one.

Titans… _titans._

The word hangs over the district, heavy with its implications. They say it over and over and over, like a curse, like a mantra to get rid of a curse. And you suddenly find yourself thinking how right they all have been, the ones that have been saying that Armin and Eren are wrong.

_Who in their right mind wants to go outside?_

You don’t even see what the Titan does, but you can guess that he’s broken through as a hot blast of acrid wind sends you crashing into the building behind you. There’s sparks flying everywhere, humid air, rocks and concrete raining down and dust clouds that you’re nearly blinded, you can’t even breathe and _oh god_ , is that a church spire hurtling through the air? No, there’s someone underneath it, no…get up, _please_ get up you’re staring, transfixed and there’s blood splattered on the ground near your feet, and then Mikasa’s pulling you out of the wreckage, shaking your shoulders roughly.

“[Name]! _[Name]!_ Snap out of it,” she orders.

“That person…there’s someone still under there…”

She exchange uncomfortable glances with Armin, but is saved from having to reply by Eren.

“My house is over there…”

Mikasa doesn’t hesitate. She grabs your hand and hauls you to your feet, pulling you along as she chases after Eren. You’ve not fully registered what has happened, and stumble along, numb with horror. She’ll probably leave you behind if you slow her down, and that thought’s the only thing that’s keeping you moving. What used to be buildings only rubble remains. There’s blood staining the unpaved roads, bodies crushed underneath concrete slabs. You’re only dimly aware of the screams, the terrified sobbing, the wretched cries. Mikasa’s hand is warm, her hold is like iron. She doesn’t let go even after you turn the corner, perhaps sensing how unsteady you are on your legs.

The…house is up ahead, only it’s in ruins now, and Eren’s mother is nowhere to be seen. Your breath catches in your throat and Mikasa’s pulling on you more forcefully now, half-dragging up the stairs.

“Mom!”

You can see her…she’s crushed under –

“Mikasa, grab that side!”

You’re only dimly aware of falling to the ground as she releases her hold on your hand.

“We need to move this pillar.”

Titans! They’re everywhere and tears are blurring your vision but you can still see them, huge and horrible and fleshy with teeth like razors and eyes, those terrible _eyes_ –

“[Name]! _Help me!_ ”

You’re on your feet, and you’re standing beside Eren, hands scraped raw trying to lift the pillar –

“Hurry!!”

“The Titans are coming in. Eren, take the girls and run.” Mrs. Jaeger’s voice –

“I want to run too! Hurry up and get out!” _Eren_ , you think dimly, _Eren’s shouting now_. It’s hurting your ears, and you don’t even fully comprehend –

“My legs have been crushed by the debris. I can’t even run if I get out. Do you understand?”

“I’ll carry you and run!”

“Why can’t you just listen to what I say for once?! Please just listen to me! Just one last time!”

One of them is coming. You can feel each step it takes shake the ground and you realize it's no use, that you’re all going to die here and there’s nothing you can do about it. You don’t even see the Titan your eyes are stinging from the ash and dust and tears and Mrs. Jaeger’s pleas and Eren’s desperate cries ring in your ears again and again but your thoughts are clouded and you're not even sure if –

“Hannes! Take the kids and run!” You hear her voice again, and in the distance, a warbled reply and Hannes is gone again. You’re not sure what’s happening but he’s back, scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eren’s voice sounds closer now and you fight the haze impeding your vision, feeling the rush of wind past your ears as you’re moving again. You seem to regain the movement in your arms and you rub at your eyes. The world flashes by. You’re hanging limply off of Hannes shoulder, and you see Eren, struggling to free himself, and then Hannes stumbles and you slide to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, helping you to your feet. “I can’t…I can’t carry three kids.”

You cough, and you found yourself saying, your voice hoarse and you’re not even sure if it makes half sense –

_You offer to call for reinforcements. Go to **Chapter 13.**_

_You offer to walk. Go to **Chapter 14.**_


End file.
